


Love is a Battlefield

by dreadwolfcullen



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Break Up, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:14:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23053063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadwolfcullen/pseuds/dreadwolfcullen
Summary: Lavellan recently after Crestwood, brokenhearted but held up by her friends. One friend in particular... Her Commander.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Kudos: 12





	Love is a Battlefield

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy

The sunrise painted the sky a light dusty pink, shot through with the robin’s egg blue of candyfloss. Authallin Lavellan stood on her balcony alone, after rising from a nightmare that had dogged what sleep she’d been able to procure.  
She let out a forlorn sigh, the clawed hand of the despair demon which was wrapped around her heart ever since Crestwood tightening reflexively. 

He had stolen everything she was, everything she would ever be. Taken her vallaslin, her status as First to Keeper Shalan, her heritage, her membership in clan Lavellan with but a single movement of his blue lit hands. And then…he’d left her.  
“It would be kinder not to…” his deep, melodious voice echoed in her mind, causing her to frown and tears to trickle down her face. Perhaps he’d been right…

Dread Wolf take her, she was drowning in her melancholy. She shook her head, donned her enchanter's robes and hood, and left Skyhold through the teleportation stone. 

She landed in the Black Emporium, with a nod and quiet greeting to Xenon and a gentle pat to Chauncey the tiny bear. She headed over to the mirrors, dismissing Xenon's veiled questions of where her bald companion was, if she was sure she was well, and whether she was ready to truly face Corypheus. She placed her hand on the mirror, and fell unconscious.

She awoke different, harder. Where her longish black locks had been, there was now shorn, orangey red hair. Where her lilac eyes had been, there now stool bitter, Fade-touched green eyes. And now, on her previously unmarried cheek, there was a long scar. She thought it made her look like someone no one should mess with.. 

She returned to Skyhold quickly, in desperate need of a hug from her favorite Tevinter mage and Qunari spy. She landed in the courtyard, and walked into the main hall. Entering the cupola, she made sure to keep her hood up and head down, although her newly green eyes observed the apostate at work.

“Vhen—” he stopped, clearing his throat and addressing her via her proper title.  
“Inquisitor Lavellan.”  
His Fade senses said that her magic was…different. “What have you done, Inquisitor?” he asked coldly. Not with intent to hurt her but to keep her at arm’s length.

She rolled her eyes with a snort, but lowered the hood. “Why do you care, Solas? You’ve made it abundantly clear that you do not care for me. Anything I may have done to my own body is my concern.”

Solas dropped his jaw. What he saw before him was a different woman. All hard and steely edges and bitter looks. But her face...He could see his vhenan there, buried under a layer of protective shell, like a beetle. Petty jabs and flippant, deflecting quips would replace the soft, sweet and shy genuine answers she’d always given him and others of their companions.  
“Why, vhenan? Why change who you are?”

“To forget the fool I was with you.” She said, raising her hood and stomped out of the rotunda, tears streaming as she stepped up the stairs. Rushing to Dorian, almost tackling him and knocking to the ground. 

“Dorian…”

“Oh, darling. I heard every word. Come with me. You need a drink.”

In the tavern, everyone asked after her vallaslin and her new look, or Solas, or how she was holding up, except one person. The steady presence of her Commander at her side, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, comforting. No questions, no pity. Just the stoic, positive friend she needed right now.

“Inquisitor, may I have a word?” a thick Nevarran accent, Cassandra's, broke though her fog. She lifted her Faded green eyes and nodded, leaving Cullen's side for a moment to follow Cass. The warrior led them outside of the tavern, to the training ground. 

“Are you all right?” She asked, a tender look of concern and worry for her friend all over the Right Hand’s face.

“…yeah. Not now but…I will be.”  
“I advise you to be careful with your heart now, Inquisitor. Do not fall into a rebound, even if it is with our steady Commander Cullen.”

Authallin was taken aback. “He is simply comforting me, Seeker. There is nothing between us.” She spat as she walked away, back into the tavern.  
“Sure. You haven’t seen the way you two look at each other.” She rolled her eyes and made a trademark disgusted noise.

Authallin resumed her seat between Cullen and Dorian, an apologetic look crossing her face. 

“Sorry,” she spoke, rolling her eyes and giving a tiny smile, all she could do now, to Cullen. “Cassandra wanted to warn me not to get into a relationship with anybody right now, especially you. As if I needed the reminder.” The disgusted noise she made rivaled Cassandra's, and Cullen, well, her Commander's ears were a delicate shade of pink. He rubbed his neck, the pink blush creeping up to his face.

“W-why…oh Maker’s breath, I’ll have to have a talk with her. Her consumption of terrible romance novels has obviously…well, I’ll just speak with her.”

“Nonsense. She’s out of left field.” The Inquisitor replied, sipping her elven wine. She’d procured a few bottles of her favorite festival wine from Clan Lavellan's stash, at Keeper Shalan's great pleasure. Solas' expression had looked as though he’d swallowed a bushel of lemons. At the time, she'd been defensive, telling him how it made her feel less homesick, less forced to perform like a monkey for the when, but he'd simply rolled his eyes and mumbled about the Dalish in his dialect that was closer to Ancient Elvhenan than Dalish. 

“Vishante kaffas girl how can you be so blind to your own feelings?” asked Dorian, rolling his eyes and examining his well manicured fingernails.

“Now kadan… I’d say that’s the pot calling the kettle black. You took long enough to take off your own blinders,” spoke Bull.

“Hey! You hush. That’s private information, but even on my worst day I couldn’t have the terrible fashion sense her apostate hobo has!”

Lavellan flinched. Dorian's eyes widened, and Cullen wrapped both arms around her, allowing her to be comforted if she wished. 

However, Lavellan was burning with rage. The skin which was exposed by her hood and coat combination was sparking with the same electricity she called forth into battle. 

“Now, Amica mea…”

Cabbot flinched as a strike of electricity hit the bar close to his hands. He grunted and called out, “Oi, take it outside or you’ll be banned!”

“I FUCKING OWN THIS BAR!”

“Don’t matter. Won’t have this bar going up in flames the way the last one did, apparently.”

The entire tavern went silent, and things seemed to go into slow motion as Authallin's heart beat in her ears. Memories of running around a burning Haven, trying to rescue as many as she could from that fucking dragon assaulted her mind, sounds of swordplay and magic filled her ears. It had not been enough, she would never BE enough. What they saw in a Dalish ‘wildling’ from the Marches, she’d never know.

While her mind was reeling with anger and panic, her hands were reaching for her enchanted blade. She stood and stalked up to the bar, sword raised and ready to cause a real problem. It took Cullen and Krem both to move her from the premises, and as the anchor on her palm flared, they got her to the stable.

“Authallin…ride with me.” Cullen spoke quietly, as Krem harnessed and tackled her Hart, Nydha.

She seethed, the spat with Dorian all but forgotten, Cabbot's misstep front in her mind. Her fists opened and closed, and she said a quiet prayer to Mythal for wisdom. When she’d calmed sufficiently to be able to ride, she mounted, noticing Cullen had already mounted Reckless, his bay Ferelden mare. 

She dipped her head and began to trot off, Cullen following. 

Solas, having stepped out for a walk on the ramparts as he was wont to do in the evening, noticed Cullen had already taken his place. He’d been the one to take her away from Skyhold when her anger got to her, his tempestuous da’len. He growled, narrowing his eyes and turning on his heel. Time to bury his pain in studies again, as per usual.

It had first been noticed that riding helped calm Authallin's nerves shortly after they’d won the day with the Wardens, and she’d kept them on. By then, Nydha had been brought from the Marches, along with the wine and a special surprise: her sister Dalinev. Authallin smiled so much that day, especially when her baby sister approved of Solas. However, when Solas had gotten a word with her, he’d been incredibly imperious, declaring that she’d made a mistake, been foolish to simply accept the Wardens. The trauma from what she’d experienced during their time in the Fade and the pain of leaving anyone in the Fade in general, but Stroud who had become her steady comfort and second mightily mustachioed friend during the weirdest time in her life, built up and the electricity had screamed through her skin that day. Cole had been the only one to draw her power away, sucking it out of her like some kind of Compassion succubus, make her sag with the magical exhaustion. Then, her sister had taken her riding, declaring “LiLi always had a temper. Riding helps, for future reference.”

“Ma dahn?” Cullen spoke quietly, using the nickname he’d given Lin after watching her bustle around Haven, like a bee, which was the meaning of the endearment. He’d looked it up in a dictionary, and she’d never had the heart to tell him 'ma' meant your, not my. Before Solas had stolen her heart, when there had been hope for their relationship. He never called her this in public, it would have raised questions of the Commander and Herald's intimacy.  
She smiled over to him. That nickname…it reminded her of when she had almost been his, had almost had her fairytale. 

“Yes, ma blar?” Flower. A funny allegory for Cullen, decidedly un-flowerlike. A sweet endearment that she’d stopped calling her friend when she and Solas had…Ugh. Enough of that. 

“Are you okay? I…I mean, C-Cabbot…and Dorian…oh Maker's breath.”  
“Cullen? Can you not.”  
She dismounted Nydha under ‘their’ tree, a sigh gusting from her, as the sound of Cullen’s hobnailed boots hit the ground.

“Ma'sarennas—”

“No more fucking elvish. I don’t want to hear another word until I’m dead after I fight Corytit.”

Cullen sighed, and wrapped his arms around her, covertly kissing the top of her head. The past couple days had been… trying. He’d never admit it, nor did he actually consciously know it, bless his heart, but going to bed with her every night, touching, curled up with each other like kittens or mabari pups…well. It left a mark, one could say.

Yes, it also helped him, filling the pain of his withdrawals, helping him get to sleep and easing his stress, but…Cullen truly did love Authallin. Had loved her since the first moment they met on the battlefield. His behavior when he met her had been affected by that, the need to conceal any blush causing him to be stern and rough.

“Cullen…I…”

“Inquisitor…don’t. To give a man hope when the person he l-…cares for is so clearly wounded by another is unfair.”

“But…”

“No, my inquisitor. I will not proceed with anything before first helping you heal your heart. I will not swoop up a broken woman and then proceed to possibly break her more with my own damage. To realize our shared dream…” here, he blushes and looks down at the newly dyed hair of his inquisitor as though looking for answers.

“Cullen, it is shared. I want you. I want to be with you. But I understand that in order to move on, I must hold on, and heal, yes?” The inflection of her voice and the ‘yes’ she’d added were acquired from many hours with her best friend, Dorian. She sighed. “We can have this conversation in six months. I wish to go back, I owe many apologies. But first…”

Authallin turned in Cullen’s embrace, looking up at him with those newly Faded, and jaded, eyes. She took his face in her gentle hands, and kissed him deeply. 

Cullen forgot how to breathe. The kiss was perfect, lips and tongue exploring each other and mouths curving with soft smiles for each other before they stepped back, both of them. 

“That is a promissory note. In six months time, I will be back to pay what I owe you, my love.” She spoke quietly, before mounting Nydha and galloping back to Skyhold, leaving Cullen in the forest, simply gawping.


End file.
